


A Compendium of Hidden Moments

by rogueoftimeywimeystuff



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: "Hell yes" gendered demons, "heavens no" gendered angels, Domestic Fluff, Ficlets, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Other, When you hide your friendship for 6000 years, queer, you kinda have a hard time being open
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-14 17:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19277911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogueoftimeywimeystuff/pseuds/rogueoftimeywimeystuff
Summary: After 6000 years of hiding their friendship, and 6000 years of pining for each other, they're finally free to spend time together instead of hiding. But old habits die hard.





	1. Queerly Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Basically I wanted to write ficlets but didn't want to post them on Tumblr (which would mean making an entirely new one) or... well any other place I currently have an account. So I'm putting them here instead. The stories will not all be chronological, as sometimes I might have snippets that better occur Before the Apocalypse, but they will all be dated (to a decade or so) if they are before the apocalypse and I will probably try to keep Post Apocalypse snippets somewhat chronological. Thank you for reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note for this chapter: Keep in mind when I'm saying certain things that I'm Jewish and Queer. Good Omens purely follows a world steeped in Christianity. So any time I mention anything as a sin, it is not how I believe, but how the characters believe due to the world they're steeped in.

### 1990s London

Crowley had always loved Pride events. Celebrating debauchery in its finest of forms under the word of one of the seven sins. Of course the idea that this kind of love could be wrong was a matter for debate. How could love be a sin? He’d been going to Pride parades in London for just over 20 years when he first saw the sign. “Not gay as in happy, but Queer as in Fuck You!”  
Now he knew that had come from an American first. They had a way of being blunt and to the point and straight up angry in a way that Britains wouldn’t match in public unless it was about football. He wondered if it came from the same demon who’d been responsible for the first brick in Stonewall, not that he knew his name. The riots that came after and even inspired the first Pride here in London, all that anger and blatant sinning and hatred came after that one brick and only seemed to be getting louder.

Regardless of his opinions however, he had absolutely no clue why someone would choose strange over happy as a sign of protest, regardless of his fondness for the way it was phrased. It was in this moment he decided to find a way to pester Aziraphale.

### 

Aziraphale had been intertwined in the various communities in Great Britain for a long time. Gay, Gay and Lesbian, Queer, LGBT. The discrimination placed against the people did naught but upset him. It took him a long while to recover once his favourite discreet gentleman’s club was shut down. Even longer once the communities moved from dancing the garrote to music such as disco. His bookstore even had a solid LGBT section hidden for those who knew to ask…. At least he believed that was the popular term for the community now. It was hard to keep track when the community was just now coming out of the closet as the kids say.

To clarify, the community had locally been celebrating Pride since 1972. And while that’s an entire generation worth of time to humans, to an Angel who has been on the world for almost six thousand years, it felt like quite a short time indeed. They’d always been there of course, but it had been in the way debauchery had always been there. Shoved into a corner if one could help it, and ignored within proper society. Finally, it felt as if the world was coming around to Aziraphale’s way of thinking. Love could no more be debauchery than walking down the street with a good friend. Unless, of course, your good friend was a demon who happened to be sauntering from the back of your bookshop.

“Oy! Angel! I need some help finding the difference between Gay and Queer!”

Aziraphale smiled apologetically at his other patrons, who looked towards the noise and then him, one lady scowling quite severely, before rushing to shush the demon, pushing him to the back of the store. If they didn’t find him odd before, they certainly did now. “Crowley, you can _not_ go shouting such things! Especially not in my bookshop.”

“Oh don’t be like that, Angel. I just had a bit of a question. Saw a sign at the parade today.”

“Oh dear, that was today? I should have closed the shop. But oh well. What did the sign say?”

“Not Gay as in happy, but Queer as in fuck you. Seemed rather American but certainly my speed. But I should know what it means before taking on harassment and making a scene of myself.”

Aziraphale could only sigh. His heart was beating rather fast, not that he could quite understand why. His voice was low as he explained. Books (and his customers) had ears after all. “Gay is _currently_ the standard phrasing used for people whom are homosexuals. Queer is… well it encompasses a bit more. A lot of the less respectable communities in particular seem to use it. Especially for those who have a complex relationship with gender.”

Crowley seems to contemplate it for a moment before smiling. “Well I guess that solves that then! I’m queer as the day is long! I love it!”

“Yes now could you keep it down! There are still people in the shop!”

“Nah. I had them leave as soon as I saw that lady scowling. Sent her to spread hate at the parade and the others to fight with her or against her depending on their leanings.”

Aziraphale wouldn’t even fault him for doing that. He simply despised the way that people would judge others. And while he didn’t like Crowley’s methods, he was simply doing his job. He turned away from him to start making his tea. “Well was that all? I’m not simply an encyclopedia on human knowledge, you know.”

“Just wanted you to know I’m Queerly yours, Angel.”

Aziraphale turned to gape at him but Crowley had already vanished. 

“Well now. He could at least wait for me to rebuke him before vanishing. A demon belonging to an angel. We’d get in such trouble.” And still Aziraphale blushed. He'd be flustered for the rest of the week.


	2. Let  Me Protect You

### After the Apocalypse

Since their first meeting, Aziraphale had always wanted to protect Crowley. Be it from the world’s first storm or a church falling upon them, Aziraphale secretly and quietly enjoyed taking care of the demon. However, while Aziraphale would take care of things falling on the demon, Crowley far more often was the one saving him. Be it minor emotional distraught such as his favourite jacket being hit by paint or his books being crushed by that very same church he was saved from, or coming onto consecrated land to drop a bomb during a deal gone bad or giving him a stay of execution, Crowley had a knack for saving him when he needed it. 

It felt uneven that he was consistently being saved from his own ineptitude by a demon. And as uneven as it felt, he felt that it was all his fault. Aziraphale was the one, after all, consistently denying their friendship. For all the times he invited Crowley to a meal, it was always in thanks and always in the mind of making the world balanced again. Good and Evil. Angel and Demon. Aziraphale and Crowley. Their actions simply had to even out. Or at least that was the way it seemed when they both showed up in the same places again and again.

So with every impossibly kind thing Crowley did for him, Aziraphale would give him an indulgence... He was loathe to say he tempted Crowley but he did. With his time and his company. With good food and drink. And yet, they could never be friends. At least that was the case until the end of the world didn’t happen.

Crowley and Aziraphale were now known to both of their front offices as companions. Gabriel had even gone so far as to call Crowley his boyfriend, a term which caused Aziraphale, no longer terrified by the mere presence of his colleagues, no end of warm feelings and anxiety. He knew that Gabriel said that to demean the relationship the two had, but what did that actually mean about their relationship?

He wished he could say for once he knew.

### 

Crowley never invited Aziraphale over to his home. It was his den of iniquity. It was kept away from the angel to keep him safe. After the apocalypse had not happened, however, Aziraphale didn’t feel quite so Good. And similarly Crowley didn’t feel quite so Evil. So one drunken night, in the back of the bookshop, Aziraphale asked him.

“Why do you never invite me over?”

Crowley looked at him, meeting his eyes deliberately, sunglasses having long been abandoned on a side table. “Because, Angel, you always have the better booze, hell the better everything. I don’t even have a couch.”

“Ah but you do have a bed. I’m pretty sure humans sit on those too.”

The brief blush and the flickering of his eyes towards the exits gave away Crowley’s anxiety. “Humans do a lot of things on beds.”

That caused Aziraphale to blush and bluster. “Oh relax. I merely want to visit. At least know where it is in case...” And that sobered them both up.

“Hey now Angel, we both know I do the protecting here.” He was no longer looking at Aziraphale, and his voice was deeper, ladened with the weight of their 6000 years and an apocalypse together.

“Well… I just thought.” Aziraphale’s hands were clamped together as he paused, eyes focused on Crowley. “Maybe I could at least share that burden from now on. Return the favor. If that’s okay with you.”

Crowley finally looked at him, eyes narrowed. “And let you be what? My Guardian Angel?”

Aziraphale felt the rage bubble up as he held Crowley’s eyes. “And why not? Why won’t you let me protect you?”

Crowley’s jaw hung loose for a moment. It felt like a human lifetime passed before Crowley finally shut his mouth, grabbed his sunglasses, and headed for the door, leaving Aziraphale gapping after him. Crowley had never done such a thing as left speechless. At least that’s what Aziraphale thought happened until Crowley leaned back past the bookshelf.

“Oy! You coming or not?”

Aziraphale grinned, and followed excitedly. “Of course I’m coming!”


End file.
